


Dependency

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Fiction, M/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-06
Updated: 2004-10-06
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:32:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Alex smokes. Mulder grumbles. Then they have a bath.





	Dependency

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Dependency

### Dependency 

#### by Griva

  


Title: Dependency (Scars II)  
Author: Griva  
Summary : Alex smokes. Mulder grumbles. Then they have a bath. Category : short  
Fandom : X-Files  
Pairing : M/K  
Spoilers : Three Words, otherwise AU  
Rating : NC-17  
Notes : Alea told me to give Alex an orgasm or two. I managed only one, but I've made him a smoker. More notes: Deviations from canon: Mulder's got a balcony. And Alex's got a Jacuzzi installed. 

*Will you quit, _already_?* I heard Mulder shouting. I could see him standing at the couch, his blue terra robe on, hands akimbo. His yell was distinctly heard through the thick pane of the balcony door. Thank you, honey, thus the neighbours are repeatedly notified when I'm out in the public view, propped at the railing with a Camel-stick in my teeth. By now even almost deaf, ancient Mr Shuntz from the 1st floor must have drawn a schedule of when Fox Mulder would let his _partner_ have a smoke. Fox Mulder had let me see his perky mush-ball's side, hidden underneath the hard veneer of smug and smart Agent, but this petty meanness tapped perfectly into his sadistic streak. Four cigs a week! No exceptions even if spun all silk and vanilla around him. 

I knew the feeling of finally getting that cigarette that you've been waiting days or weeks for. I'd tried to stop smoking many times, but it never lasted. Kools were hip, but I hated menthol aroma or peppermint taste since aged 6. When the Spender-Spider was around, nothing served as a better incentive to keep me off cigarettes than inhaling his Morley-fumes. And I have witnessed an expression of pure shock on Mulder's face when he found a half-empty Camel Filters pack in the pocket of my jacket in the first week since we started playing house. Don't even ask me how it came to be that I _let_ him check my pockets. If I'm not _in_ bed with him, I'm not myself around him. 

I don't blame Mulder for going _beyond_ himself when he smelt the cig-smoke around, especially coming from _me_. He chose to get involved with a walking-talking reminder of his multiple traumatic experiences. We forgave each other things that _could not_ never be forgotten anyway. Funny, but after that Mulder found it impossible to put up with my small _character defects_. With smoking, no _trick and treat_ method helped. Neither would his direct orders nor childish petulance change me. Cigs were not the first case, a whiel before I made that clear that I'd not stop doing something only because he told me so. As a result we settled to this childish ritual. And every time he turned it into a favour of universal proportion. I have to live with this, like with the fact that he always loses the 2nd sock after sorting out his laundry. Maybe its anther conspiracy, because my socks always match. 

Moreover, he insisted that I had to brush my teeth afterwards. Or he wouldn't come near me. Now, not even my mamma - bless her soul - had ever ordered me around like this. Whatever he was doing in the rooms, he ambled into the bathroom when I had already managed to have prepared ourselves a good hot soak, and was standing brushing my teeth thoroughly like an obedient 36 yo ex-scum-sucking invertebrate piece of you know what I used to be. 

Mulder looked up at me, "You, now." He paused briefly, as if reconsidering, brow crinkled. "Now, you..." He began again, then stopped. 

"Me? Now?" I tried really hard not to laugh at this sudden, puzzling yet comic, brilliance of inexpressiveness. 

"What'd I do?" I licked the tooth-paste smear off my lip and grinned. Mulder stepped closer to me and as he jabbed his finger into my chest repeatedly, he glared at me. But there in his eyes I saw amusement, Mulder himself stunned by sudden inarticulateness. "Don't pretend you haven't heard me calling for the 1st time. And ... you had better watch your mouth." 

It's when he tried soooooooooo hard to play the butch he ended up flat on his back. I took hold of his hand and moved it away from me. "Touch me again like that and I'll be having to watch more than my mouth." 

"Well, at least this time I don't have to watch your ass!" He snapped back. This didn't connect much with what I just said. That meant someone was close to hitting the pissy lane. That's why I spared Mulder the snub that I couldn't remember when he actually _did_ watch my ass in this lifetime.' That's why I spared Mulder the snub that I couldn't remember when he actually _did_ watch my ass in this life. "Well you can kiss it then", I blurted instead the first thing that entered my mind. He cocked his head, apparently choosing the next lash-back, and I couldn't stop staring at his chameleon eyes. Curacao blue. 

*Then take this off", Mulder replied coolly and pointed at the towel around my hips. Instead of putting down my toothbrush, I made a little swivel with my hips, shaking the towel off. I watched myself in the almost full-length mirror at the opposite wall. A little more practice, and I can go give it a try at the strip-pole. 

"Yes sir, anything else?" I uttered defiantly. 

"Turn around," Mulder said quietly. 

I raised my eyebrow at that - that's not how he usually liked to play, but didn't argue. I had a premonition he was plotting something since yesterday?s rim-job. Holy socks, he soon had his tongue buried deep into my ass. Waiting usually didn't make my lover horny, but at times like these I doubted Mulder knew himself why he was initiating what he was up to. I had my mouth full of Colgate ExtraMint and tried to keep my face not splutter it all over the sink and wall. I moaned as he worked, extra aroused because if I looked back over my shoulder, I could see exactly what he was doing. 

"Damn it, where did _you_ learn it?" I said as something between a moan and a whimper escaped my lips. He chuckled and turned me around. 

"It's a secret." And he still called _me_ a reticent bastard. Even though I had told him a chapter and a verse about the _formative experiences_ of my years before the FBI and with even more prurient details - after. How I had to concentrate on more complex tasks than kissing or pounding someone's ass. What did I get in return? A story how he 69-ed with chick in Malibu who'd claimed to be a vampire. What's knew there? I only wondered to myself how he managed to keep it up if she was a fangy one. 

Mulder then began with small, delicate kisses from the tip of my cock to the base. By the time he was halfway down, I thought I was going to burst. I haven't got any get-off since the day before. And here he was teasing me, as I had learnt very soon he was known to do, and doing a very good job of it. And to get mine in this case, I had to give him exactly what he wanted. I had to beg. I wouldn't do it for just _anyone_. 

"Please, Mulder." I issued throatily. 

He just grinned, I felt the movement of his lips stretching at my groin. "Please what?" 

"Take me in," I whispered. He rose against me, but didn't tip his head down. I had to lean in, kiss his smirking lips in supplication. Marking him with a striped smudge. Then he wrapped his hand around me and stroked softly, his thumb spreading pre-come over the head as he did. "In my hand?" He asked. I just nodded, unable to speak. Glaze-eyed, mouth agape, I looked like a dummy in the window-shop, but at the moment I would grasp any option he offered. 

"Or, in my mouth?" Mulder chuckled and seconds later had his hot mouth wrapped tightly around me. I looked down at him and watched his lips slide up and down my cock. I braced myself against the counter and gripped it tightly as he sucked me and did wicked things with his tongue. His movements sped up and he tightened his lips. 

"Yes," I said with heavy breath. He was pushing me closer to the edge and the look in his eyes told me that he knew it. He winked at me seconds before taking all of me in and giving quicker yet deeper strokes. A few minutes later I was clenching the counter so hard that it hurt and my abs and balls were drawn so tight, I swore they'd end up touching. I let out a loud curse that probably sounded more like a cry, and I practically exploded in his mouth. Mulder softened his mouth around me, but kept on as if trying to milk me dry. I pulled at his hair gently. He stood slowly and this time deigned to lean forward to kissed me hard, licking my lower lip as the final touch. 

"I think I'm developing a new fetish," Mulder said thoughtfully as he pulled away from me. "Toothpaste". 

"Our nice hot bath is probably cold". I brought back to reality my lover who, I suspected, could make a sexual fetish of a dead frog or a flash-light if I showed him how. Mulder nodded as if to himself, still ruminating, and started undoing his robe. 

"I guess I just have to put up with your infuriating skills of distracting me. Or acknowledge I can't resist your bare ass". 

Shaking my head - Mulder never missed the chance to remind me that it was _all my fault_ since the day one, but secretly delighted that he had brought me off instead of preaching the prospects of having lung-cancer, I stepped into the tub and sat down into the almost too hot water. 

"Come on and get in, the water is just right." 

I helped Mulder to sit between my legs. He still had problems with his range of movement after the Return and one of his major problems was trying to get keep balance on slippery or uneven surfaces. Or coordinate his movements in substances thicker than air. He resumed going to the pool three weeks ago, after 9 pm, when it was almost empty. At first he used to return darker than a thunder-cloud. On such evenings we hardly even talked, let alone fucked. He would grab a sandwich, his papers and would be rooted in front of the monitor long after I was asleep. He started making progress though recently, after he had uneasily admitted another terror: he was so afraid that whatever was severed inside of him and sliced _on_ him and had healed, would suddenly burst open and he would bleed all over the pool unable to climb out. And then he would have to spend _hours_ being stitched closed and recuperating, immobile and vulnerable. I heard Mulder heave a heavy sigh. He was brooding about the same stuff. 

I wouldn't stress that _I_ would _never_ swim again. All I could offer was silent support. As his back went against my chest, I wrapped my arm around him and lay my head on the edge of the tub. I could not believe how hot the water still was, did I really shot my load off two minutes ago? But it was relaxing. Mulder tensed a little and looked back at me when he sensed a movement 

"What are you doing, _again_?" 

"I'm turning on the Jacuzzi," I said. I pushed the button and lay back, sighing blissfully. "I absolutely love this thing." "It's never been my thing, but it is relaxing." He conceded royally. Well, if not for my fancy and some investment, we would have never ended up with one. Sorry, but I couldn't live in an apartment that didn't have a bathtub even if Mulder had been managing perfectly for ten years. 

And I couldn't sit still whenever Mulder landed naked between my legs. I let my lips begin a trail of kisses from just below his ear, then down his neck, and then ran my chin lightly back and forth across his shoulder. I had no time to shave, and I was going on thirty-something hours without a shave. It turned out that while Mulder had a problem letting him self go in the facial hair department, he absolutely loved it when I'd wait a day or two between shaving. He shuddered in my arms and I couldn't help but chuckle in satisfaction. 

"Don't shave when we get out of here," Mulder said quietly. 

"But it's so itchy," I teased. "Why don't you want me to shave?" 

"There are certain parts of my body that would like to feel it again." I groaned at the sudden flash of memory, the memory of running a four-day-old beard over nearly every square inch of Mulder's body. 

"And just what part would that be?" 

He covered my palm with his. "Every part," he whispered. 

*end?   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Griva


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